


Together we'll chase the clouds

by failurebydesign



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failurebydesign/pseuds/failurebydesign
Summary: “I promised you the best birthday and you’re getting it.” Tito pushes up and off of the bed, grabs a t-shirt from Mat’s suitcase and tosses it at him. “Now get dressed, we have somewhere to be.”“Can I at least shower first?” Mat wrinkles his nose and checks the clock— it’searly.“Yeah,” Tito says with a shrug. “It’s your birthday.”( Or When Mat runs away to Paris, Tito makes it his mission to give him the best birthday he deserves. )





	Together we'll chase the clouds

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this is a locked work for obvious reasons. If your name is mentioned here, please do not continue on. This is simply a work of fiction and in no way implies anything about anyones sexual orientation, etc. In other words, this is just for fun. 
> 
> Thank you to all of my favorite people for lifting me up whenever things get really stressful and encouraging me to continue on with my writing. Mat/Tito are my babies and so you know i'll always come back to them.

“What are you doing this summer?” Tito leans into his upturned palms, elbows propped up on the counter. He has his own plans— Spain, mostly, and Mat knows they could be his plans, too, if he felt he was owed a vacation.

Mat shrugs, because disappointment after disappointment begins to weigh so heavily on his mind that _not_ training begins to sound like a terrible idea— because he doesn’t know quite how to tell Tito that he just doesn’t deserve a vacation. Not when he considers the Calder to still be up in the air. Especially not when he feels they’re on the brink of blowing the entire championship. The last thing Mat needs is to make some stupid, drunken beach mistake that’ll go and fuck that up on him, too.

“If you change your mind, we’ll be there.” Tito says.

Maybe Mat’s a little more than a bit stubborn. His mind doesn’t change and Tito still goes to Ibiza without him— with Luc and a few friends, instead. Mat must have missed something in Denmark— he knows Tito and Luc have been long-time friends, just doesn’t remember them being _that_ close. 

He doesn’t allow himself to think about it. If anyone deserves to relax and have a bit of fun, it’s Tito.

Mat remembers Tito’s face after their loss to Switzerland, how close it came and it yet it just wasn’t enough to gold medal qualify. He remembers pulling Tito into a hug afterwards and Tito, devastated, tucking his head into the crook of Mat’s neck. He didn’t cry, just whispered, in a rare moment of weakness, “We’re done.”

It’s unusual for Tito to be negative and those words tugged painfully at Mat’s heart. He didn’t know how to tell Tito that he didn’t have high hopes for the bronze game, either, and opted to focus on rubbing a small circle into his back instead.

The day of the bronze medal game, Tito is especially quiet.

“We can do this,” Mat says, fist bumping Tito on their way to the ice. It’s one of the loudest games yet and though Mat doesn’t typically find himself nervous, his heart rate seems to spike when he catches Tito’s eye.

Tito nods, tapping on the messy _HAVE FUN =P_ scrawled across his stick.

Mat laughs because Tito makes it easy to try.

They lose 1-4.

Neither talk when it’s all over. Tito is quiet and Mat, disappointed in himself— in the situation as a whole, is just as quiet, because he doesn’t know what to say to Tito, who’s usually so full of life even at his worst.

Mat thinks some of the guys go out drinking as a way to mask their disappointment, but doesn’t join in. He hides away from the world, shutting himself inside of his room for the rest of the night. He sleeps through the shuffle of Tito who’s in and out for a good hour. He ignores Tito and Chabby talking on the other side of the room. Mat pulls the pillow over his head and just sleeps.

He dreams he’s in Ibiza with Tito, who jumps into the pool with a shout. The water rains down on him and he can almost feel it as it _tap tap taps_ against his shoulder. Tito’s laughter is the best music to his ears and when he wakes up, he almost expects to hear it.

It isn’t until then— until it’s too late— that he realizes the light tapping of his shoulder wasn’t water.

“Tito?”

Mat sits up, looks around and their room, sans Tito, is no longer theirs. The second bed is made, sort of, but it’s also the best it’s looked since the start which only means one thing—

Tito’s already gone.

He hangs out until the afternoon, until he’s the last guy left.

With everyone gone, there’s a phrase that runs through Mat’s mind— _You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here_. Denmark is outstanding— the atmosphere, the shopping, the architecture and even the people amaze Mat, pulling him in. It’s the sense of loss that pushes him away.

..

He doesn’t go home, but doesn’t go to Ibiza, either. Mat, instead, hops on a flight to Paris and spends three full days cut off from the outside world. 

Mat takes a jog along the Pont des Arts and remembers, as a child, learning about the tradition of attaching a padlock to the bridge. Imagery of thousands of engraved locks cross his mind when he stops in the middle.

The majority of locks have since then been removed, replaced with graffiti and he doesn’t stop to think about the locks that remain— he thinks about those that _don’t_. It’s just a symbol, he thinks, watching a newlywed couple as they manage to find a spot near the edge to actually clasp a lock on. Sooner or later, that lock will be cut down and there’s no way of knowing how many relationships represented _actually_ have lasted. Though he doesn’t know those strangers, he can tell they’re happy and as he continues on his run, finds himself hoping that all symbolic bullshit aside, their love lasts.

On the fourth day, Mat is sitting outside of a cafe when he receives a photo of Tito on some beach in Ibiza. He’s smiling, taking in the sun and it’s the happiest he’s seen Tito in about a week, which is nice. Mat imagines if he had gone to Ibiza, they’d be drinking poolside, which is probably a lot nicer than having a standing lunch because the Jardin du Luxembourg is a lot more crowded than he anticipates. 

_It’s probably loud there, too_ , Mat tells himself, refusing to regret his decision. Paris is busy— Paris is touristy— but it’s easy to be forgotten in a world where his French speaking skills and street style separate him from the typical out of town crowd.

He doesn’t text Tito back. It’s not like he’s ignoring Tito, just that it’s the first glimpse he’s had of the outside world since landing in France, having made it a point to delete all social media applications before leaving Denmark. Being oblivious to the world around him, if only for short while, was _nice_. So Mat looks at the photo once more— is sure Tito sees the read receipt— and shuts off his phone.

He doesn’t turn his phone on again until the sun sets and he’s tucked away in his hotel room. Mat’s birthday is two days away, and though he doesn’t quite feel ready to face reality, he knows his friends are going to start questioning his whereabouts.

_ibiza missed u_

Mat stares at Tito’s text, wondering how a place could miss him.

 _not interested_ , he quickly types back and goes to sleep.

..

Mat dreams about returning to the Pont des Arts with Tito, who opens his palm and reveals a golden lock, their names engraved. He laughs, because it’s sort of ridiculous for two best friends to sneak around the bridge together and try to casually leave a padlock behind when it’s technically an act of vandalism and a symbol of love. 

When he sits up in the morning, he decides to avoid crossing the Pont des Arts. It’s an easy route and one of his favorites, but now his mind is riddled with imagery of Tito laughing— dancing around on the bridge as a distraction as Mat slips the lock closed around the smallest exposed piece of fencing he can somehow find.

It all felt way too real.

There’s another text from Tito— a photo of him with some obnoxiously large drink filled to the brim and practically overflowing with fruit. The caption reads, _biggg drinks biggg fun_.

 _convince me_ , Mat says back and begins to prepare for his new day.

He doesn’t hear from Tito again until the afternoon, when his legs are sore from an impulsive climb up the Arc de Triomphe. Mat snaps a quick photo from the top, more to remind himself of the 284 step achievement later on.

 _i’ll make ur birthday the best_ , Tito says, signing it with a heart.

Tito _always_ uses a heart— it’s nothing exclusively for Mat, though he focuses on it anyway, because maybe, if he pretends, all of Tito’s hearts are just for him.

But then Mat looks out into the distance, the Eiffel Tower in all its glory and all of Paris beneath his fucking feet and realizes just how stupid he is. It’s a scene that should be romantic or at the very least, awe-inspiring. To Mat, without Tito laughing at his side, it just feels… lonely.

There’s three type of people who travel to Paris— couples in love, students and those who love pain. Paris is beautiful and bustling, it’s romantic and artistic— for most. When you’re lonely, it’s downright depressing. 

Mat swallows his pride, tears his eyes away from the Eiffel Tower and sends one more text.

 _is that a challenge?_

_it’s the truth_ , Tito says back.

_in ibiza?_

He doesn’t tell Tito he’s considering it, but he’s definitely considering something.

_nah, left ibiza_

Mat’s heart drops when he reads Tito’s response. Ibiza was never anything he wanted— it was Tito, he realizes, that he needed.

He’s about to respond when his phone buzzes again.

_headed to barcelona see u there!_

..

Hating your birthday is something that Mat thinks shouldn’t happen when you’re turning twenty-one and traveling Europe. As expected, his friends from Vancouver begin to ask about his plans and Mat can only tell them that he’ll be home soon— he thinks— just that he has to make an important pit stop first.

Mat doesn’t tell Tito when he boards his plane at the Charles de Gaulle nor does he tell him when he lands at the El Prat and yet, when he flips his phone back out of airport mode, there’s a text from Tito sitting in his inbox.

_u here yet?_

It’s something, the answer so easy, that Mat doesn’t quite know how to respond to. The simple thing would be to say yes, find a place and meet him there, but Mat’s mind fails to work in simple ways.

He knows the hotel that Tito’s staying at and takes a taxi down instead, thinking about how he’d rather casually bump into Tito just to see his surprised smile. Mat checks into his own room, spends a few minutes looking out the large, glass window at the beach below and immediately second guesses himself when he remembers that Tito isn’t on this trip alone.

Mat doesn’t find Tito— the hotel is much bigger than he imagined, and he retreats to a lounge chair by the pool. He still doesn’t feel quite ready to allow himself to enjoy this, watching people come and go for a good portion of the day.

He recognizes Luc, first, and then his eyes settle on Tito’s hand, pressed against Luc’s lower back as they make their way around the pool. Tito throws his head back, laughing, and Mat knows he doesn’t have his phone on him— they’re headed to the pool that’s just a few feet in front of him.

“Mat?”

Mat’s stomach flips when he hears Tito’s voice. It’s been five days since he’s last heard it and yet Mat knows there’s nothing he’s missed more.

“Hey,” he manages to say before Tito just about knocks the wind out of him and then they’re both on the chair, Tito laughing, arms around Mat’s waist to keep either of them from rolling onto the deck.

“You fucker.” Tito’s lit up eyes and wide smile tell Mat that he’s not exactly unhappy to see him.

“Watch it,” Mat says, “I can easily fly back.”

Tito doesn’t move his arm but looks at Mat with a hum. “Where were you?”

“I was in Paris,” Mat admits, a bit sheepish, because if asked, he can’t quite explain why he chose to travel to what ended up being both the most romantic and depressing city all rolled into one neat little package.

Tito snorts. “Pick up anything good?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Mat furrows his brows. It isn’t that he means to be defensive— he could have easily stayed in Paris, alone. “You think I fucked my way through Paris?”

“The language, you idiot,” Tito says, laughing. “But hey, if that’s why you went, good on you.”

“First,” Mat says. “You know I know French. Second, no, I did not fuck my way through Paris, thank you.”

“Debatable,” Tito replies, smiling. “And I wouldn’t judge you. But what were you doing in Paris? Was it fashion week?”

Mat rolls his eyes, because Tito is an asshole who clearly doesn't understand fashion. “No, I was _reflecting_.”

“On?”

Mat shrugs. He has a lot of thoughts, most of them involving Tito, but none that he feels comfortable divulging, especially when Tito’s shirtless and they’re sharing a beach chair like it’s a casual thing best friends often do.

“So you were brooding?” Tito tightens his arm around Mat’s waist and he can’t help but wonder if it’s because Tito might think he was sad.

“I wasn’t—” 

“— That’s _so_ Paris.”

“I was re-charging,” Mat says with a frustrated sigh.

“In Paris.” Tito raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so what?”

“So most people do that somewhere with a beach.” Tito tilts his head towards the pool, pulls his hands back and then sits up.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Mat says, watching as Tito moves. “Also, this isn’t a beach, it’s a pool.”

“Well I’m glad you’re here.” It’s Tito’s pleased smile that makes Mat’s decision all worthwhile.

..

They all get dinner at some place that, at no surprise to Mat, specializes in seafood. Mat sits next to Tito and is happy, until Tito gets caught up laughing about inside jokes formed somewhere between Ibiza and Barcelona that he clearly was no part of.

He shrugs it off, because it’s not like he doesn’t have other friends— other jokes that Tito definitely doesn’t understand. But then Tito’s hand makes its way back around Luc and Mat doesn’t quite feel like dinner anymore.

Mat’s thankful when it’s over, when he can get up and use the excuse of needing to stretch his legs to grab a few minutes alone. 

They walk down to the beach and Tito runs across the sand, laughing while he does. Mat doesn’t feel like running and unlike dinner, that he can skip, so he does. Not that lunch was as much food as it was alcohol— for all of them.

“Come on, come swimming,” Tito shouts once his bare feet hit the edge of the water.

Luc runs after Tito and then, when they’re running out, splashing through the water, Mat just waves his hand dismissively. He’s not jealous and he doesn’t hate Luc or anything he just— isn’t thinking about it.

Mat opts for sitting in the sand, drinking a beer and passes a second to Ryan, who joins him. He likes Ryan, who’s quiet, but they get along really well due to the fact that unlike the rest of the guys on the trip, he isn’t French Canadian and, well, crazy. 

They watch when Luc dunks Tito beneath the surface and Ryan laughs.

“He deserved that.” Ryan takes a sip of his beer, grinning. “Tito threw him in the pool yesterday.”

Tito surfaces, then moves close to Luc and Mat can’t see what’s going on, but his mind goes directly to kissing. They’re whispering— laughing, too, Mat quickly realizes, definitely not kissing like he initially thought.

It’s a relief, but also a curse for Mat who’s forced to recognize that on second thought, he _is_ a little jealous of Luc.

“Have they been like this the whole trip?” Mat doesn’t look at Tito when he says it, just focuses on his beer.

“Kind of,” Ryan says flatly.

Mat inhales, not sure if he wants to know the answer to his next question. “Is Tito hooking up?”

“With Luc?” Ryan knits his eyebrows— looks at Mat like he might be out of his mind and Mat wonders if maybe he _is_. “I mean, I hope not. You know me and him are kind of a thing, right?”

Mat _didn’t_ know. He feels like an idiot, like Tito’s living in an entirely different world than him when they’re outside of New York. New York Tito is a big piece of his life— part of his daily routine that he doesn’t know how he’d function without. This Tito— Vacation Tito, is different.

“Fuck,” Mat says under his breath when Ryan sets his drink down and stands up.

“I’ll get him under control,” Ryan says, waving to Luc who’s fast approaching.

Mat’s Tito isn’t the same Tito who comes back to the center, glassy-eyed and hanging off of Luc’s shoulder. When he accidentally knocks over Mat’s beer, trying to get one of his own, Mat rolls his eyes.

Ryan manages to pull Luc away, which Mat is thankful for, and Tito, damp and way drunker than Mat first realized, settles against Mat’s side.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Mat lets his hand fall at Tito’s side and Tito, naturally, curls into him. It’s nice, Mat thinks, but would be better if it weren’t how he acted with literally everyone.

..

Mat doesn’t plan on Tito spending the night in his room, it just happens— not that he’s complaining. His room is a floor above Tito’s and they’re exactly the same, though Mat has no interest in Tito’s shared room when he isn’t in it.

Mat groans and considers throwing a pillow at Tito, but then Tito climbs into his bed, pulls him into a hug and he’s thankful that it’s his bed Tito chose to get into, _not_ Luc’s.

“Was I first?”

“Uh, yeah,” Mat says, resting his hand at Tito’s aside. “I was asleep, man.”

“Glad you’re awake now.”

“Because you woke me up,” Mat says with a half-serious sigh. He could use another hour of sleep, but by the way Tito tugs on his arm, knows that isn’t happening.

“Okay, fair but you can’t be mad because I’ve planned your entire day.”

“All of it?” Mat asks, because he’s only been in Barcelona for a few hours and technically, it’s _his_ birthday, so maybe, he thinks, what they do should partly involve his input.

“I promised you the best birthday and you’re getting it.” Tito pushes up and off of the bed, grabs a t-shirt from Mat’s suitcase and tosses it at him. “Now get dressed, we have somewhere to be.”

“Can I at least shower first?” Mat wrinkles his nose and checks the clock— it’s _early_.

“Yeah,” Tito says with a shrug. “It’s your birthday.”

He’s quick and then they’re out the door, only to sit in a taxi for what seems like forever. It’s not the beach birthday celebration that Mat was expecting, or so he guesses by how little water and more green he sees the further they travel.

They stop just outside of a big, empty field and Mat can only laugh. “Are we milking cows today?”

“Shut up,” Tito laughs while paying the driver. “Just come on.”

Mat walks, slow and slightly unsure.

“C’mon.” Tito pulls Mat by the arm, leading him, walking— quickly. 

“Where are we going?” Mat raises an eyebrow, glancing down at their hands. 

Tito doesn’t answer. His brisk walk progresses into a run and Mat picks up speed to keep from falling behind. When Tito tightens the grip on his hand, Mat, out of instinct, squeezes back. 

When Tito looks over his shoulder, laughing, Mat’s heart thumps within his chest. It’s in that moment Mat decides he’ll go anywhere Tito’s willing to take him. Mat doesn’t understand it, but he trusts Tito’s judgement, following him out towards the field. It isn’t until they’re closer to something that looks like a giant plastic bag that he realizes what they’re about to do.

“A hot air balloon?”

Tito, excited, nods.

If past Mat were how he pictured his 21st birthday to be, he would have never imagined the inclusion of a hot air balloon over Barcelona— with one of his best friends, of all people. At the beginning of the year, his ideal plans were much different— make playoffs, reach the cup finals and celebrate amidst the run. Then, 21 and on top of the world, he’d take home the cup.

Mat knew at the beginning that expecting greatness wasn’t a guarantee. The struggle is what makes the success that much more meaningful. Unfortunately, for his team, the losses outweighed the wins in the end. If asked how he felt the season went, he’d shrug, say they battled hard and yeah, losing sucks but— there’s next year.

He isn’t thinking about next year now.

He’s thinking about climbing into a basket with Tito and for a short while, just floating away.

They’re given a short lesson and they end up with a bright yellow and blue balloon with space for two people. Mat appreciates that it’s just the two of them, not that he doesn’t like Tito’s friends but— there’s something that makes it so much more special when Mat knows it’s all about him. They watch the balloon fill up, Mat amazed at just how large it really it.

“Are you ready?” Tito sits back, buckling himself in and Mat is only slow to do the same because he’s pretty entranced with how excited even the simple things in life make Tito. Not that taking a hot air balloon is simple by any means.

Once they’re secured, the sandbags are removed from the sides of the basket and it begins to lift up. They learn that it’s not something you can steer, so wherever the basket goes is where they’re going, too. Luckily, it’s not windy enough to send Mat back to Paris.

Higher and higher they float and Mat, caught up in the moment, just laughs.

Mat feels brave when he looks over the edge of the basket and everything below begins to blur together— houses the size of pinheads. There’s a complete lack of the sensation of movement that comes along with ballooning and while Mat expects the basket to rock or his stomach to turn, like a quick drop on a rollercoaster, neither happen.

They float up, higher and higher at a speed so steady and light that they almost _become_ the environment that surrounds them.

“This is,” Tito begins, knuckles white when he grips the side of the basket. 

“Fucking unreal,” Mat says, unable to comprehend how Tito knew to put something like _this_ together just for _him_. 

“I was going to say slightly terrifying but, okay, yeah, that.”

Mat looks to Tito, catching his forced smile. He appreciates the effort, but knows how to read Tito, maybe more than either realizes.

“Are you okay?” Mat leans forward and the basket doesn’t shift like Tito may have been expecting. Still, it elicits a soft gasp from within. He’s guessing the answer is a solid no.

“I mean it’s really cool, it’s just— “

Mat places his hand over Tito’s and it must bring a little relieved because the tension Mat initially feels beneath his palm seems to lessen.

“The basket can’t tip over,” Mat says when they float along, this thumb absently brushing at the back of Tito’s hand. “You’ve been parasailing, what’s so bad about this?”

“Is this what feeling nothing is like?”

“ _Nothing_?” Mat raises an eyebrow and wonders if that’s what Tito thinks about him. That Mat, who ran away to Paris as an escape, felt nothing. If being in a balloon with Tito is what nothing feels like, then Mat can’t help what wonder being _away_ from Tito is. Being next to Tito is where Mat feels the most alive— the safest, even up in the air, floating away in an unsteerable balloon.

Tito finally relaxes when the balloon begins to descend and though Mat thinks that while it may be a little too late, it’s better than not at all. They’re both laughing by the time the basket hits the ground with a hard thud. Tito leans into Mat’s side, unable to keep himself from giggling, and then, like the basket, Mat’s heart thuds, too.

..

Brunch is simple, shared amongst other balloon riders, though the private riders are all given their own tables. When they’re presented with champagne, Mat is happy to fill his glass because nothing says twenty-one quite like alcohol late-morning.

Tito holds up his glass of champagne, tilts it forward just slightly and doesn’t seem bothered when a few drops spill out. “To probably the best birthday you’ll ever have.”

“You’re pretty confident, eh?” Mat picks up his glass, clinking them together.

Once the champagne is gone and Tito is at what Mat considers to be his best— happy and laughing, he manages to somehow scrounge up a mini cake, accompanied by an off-key version of _Bonne Fête_.

Mat fills himself up on eggs and champagne and revels in the attention that Tito gives him. It’s nothing near a five star brunch, but it’s Tito, who just can’t stop talking about the air balloon, that makes him the happiest he’s been in quite some time.

“That was probably the best present anyone’s ever given me,” Mat admits. He’s gotten some cool things in the past— his first car when he was younger, a watch last year, but in a world of material things, sharing _this_ with Tito is probably his favorite yet. 

“A basket and some air?” Tito pokes at the food on his plate. “Or these rubbery eggs?”

“The balloon, I guess?” Mat thinks back to an hour prior how hot the balloon was, how nervous Tito was. Those aren’t the parts he’ll remember. It’s holding hands in the air, feeling absolutely infinite in that moment and Tito, laughing when they hit the ground that he’ll never forget. “It was so much more than that.”

“That wasn’t even your present.” Tito sets his fork down, clearly finished.

“Was the song my present?” Mat grins. “Because if so, I hope there’s a gift receipt.”

Tito scoffs, punches him in the shoulder and then smiles innocently. “No, _that’s_ your present.”

And, _God I missed this_ , Mat thinks when Tito begins to laugh.

..

They make it back to the hotel close enough to go out for an early dinner and Mat isn’t quite ready to share Tito with the group again. When they stop off in Tito’s room, it’s empty.

“I’m just going to take a shower and change and then we can go to dinner,” Tito says. “I can meet you at your room?”

“What about everyone else?” Mat looks to the door, like he expects them to return at any minute. He doesn’t tell Tito that he’d rather not have dinner with Luc, it’s rude, but—

Tito shrugs. “It’s your birthday, not theirs.”

So Mat goes to his room, puts on a nice shirt and quickly discovers it’s a little too hot to wear when it isn’t exactly an indoor restaurant where Tito brings him. They end up seated at a small table, sand beneath their feet and though Mat’s done a lot in his life, this is something new even for him. 

“I feel like I’m overdressed,” Mat says, looking down at his shoes that are planted in the sand. He silently mourns for how much it’s going to suck getting the sand out of them later on, though had he been taken here by anyone other than Tito, Mat’s pretty certain he’d already have had a heart attack.

“Is this not okay?” Tito bites his lip, looking worried and Mat immediately feels bad. 

“No, it’s amazing. It’s—” Mat says, because it _is_. It’s a table on the beach and he’s pretty sure they’re going to end up watching the sunset together which— _fuck_ , Mat thinks, the moment a waitress comes to light the candles at their table.

Tito orders a bottle of wine for the two of them, mentions it’s Mat’s birthday and the waitress gives him a knowing smile.

“It’s?” Tito asks.

Mat’s heart begins to beat faster because he doesn’t quite know how to tell Tito, who might not even _know_ , that it’s more than amazing. It’s down right romantic.

“I love it,” Mat settles on. “Thank you.”

They’re about halfway through their dinner when the sky turns bright shades of orange and yellow, a smattering of pink and red mixed in. Mat’s seen the sunset in Paris just days before, he’s seen the Eiffel Tower, the Pont des Arts and _nothing_ he’s seen in Paris makes him feel the way he does when he’s with Tito, sunset, balloon ride or otherwise.

He’s pretty sure they could be sitting in the hotel room, eating chips and he’d be just as in love as he realizes he is in that very moment.

The thing about love is it isn’t that sudden realization of feelings— it’s gradual, building up over time and Mat has to stop, think, and wonder what moments led him here. He grew attached to Tito rather quickly and wonders if being with Tito wasn’t what accelerated his feelings— being _without_ Tito always made him feel so much more.

Tito has always been spontaneous, fun and probably the only person who can convince Mat to take a day off, guilt free. He’s also the only one who convinces Mat, with ease, that vying away from their meal plan once in awhile is okay— they deserve it. Mat’s favorite memory isn’t going to Catch NYC with some friends and letting Tito talk him into splitting the Hit Me cake, though.

It’s laying together in Tito’s bed after another five point game for Mat— neither speaking, just existing together in one shared space. It’s Tito’s smile being the first thing Mat remembers seeing, because even though he really liked the album they were listening to, he fell asleep against Tito and woke up to his soft smile.

He doesn’t think that’s exactly when he fell in love with Tito, but adds it to the list of things that brought him here. Being loud and laughing while riding a helicopter over Banff is probably one of the most romantic things Mat has ever done (and he’s been to Paris), though it never quite registered until he looked back at the photos. It’s another one of those moments Mat cherishes.

Being without Tito is always when it hits him the hardest.

Being with Tito is when Mat is the happiest.

“Mat?” Tito says softly, fingertips touching his arm.

“Yeah?” Mat jumps a little, realizing that that probably wasn’t the first time Tito called his name.

“You, like, zoned out.” Tito gives his arm a squeeze. “Everything okay?”

He can tell Tito’s worried about him and though he’s never said it, wonders if Tito’s been worried this entire time.

“This is really fucking romantic.” Mat finally puts it all out there then downs the rest of his wine.

Tito moves his hand away, but it’s only to grab his own glass of wine. When he smiles, Mat’s pretty sure Tito knew exactly what he was doing.

..

“Okay, fine, you win,” Mat says when they stop outside of his hotel room. “It was literally the best birthday I’ve ever had. So what did you bet on this?” He crosses his arms and Tito, in turn, frowns.

“Bet?”

“I mean, if you were trying to show me the best time ever—”

Tito’s mouth presses into his, Mat’s back pressing against the door and all Mat can do in that moment is kiss back because it’s his birthday— because it’s Tito— because it’s everything he’s ever wanted. Tito’s kisses are soft, they’re slow and when he pulls away, eyes looking to his feet, they’re far too short.

“Do you think that was a bet, too?” Tito speaks softly, his fingertips lingering at Mat’s waist.

“What about Luc?” Mat bites his lip, sure his jealousy is about to show.

“Luc?” Tito laughs, leaning in. “I’m not in love with him.”

 _Then who_ , Mat wants to ask, but has to swallow pretty hard before he can even think about forming any words. He just settles for an easy, “oh,” instead.

A couple talking in the hallway prompts them to take their conversation to the other side of the door and once it’s shut, Mat turns back to Tito.

“How long?”

Tito shrugs. “Forever, I guess.”

Mat knows that forever is pretty subjective, that he’s pretty sure he’s loved Tito forever, _too_ , though he isn’t quite sure what finally caused him to bring all of his feelings to fruition. They spend the rest of the night lying side by side kissing slow, and lazy, like they’re given all of the time in the world.

When Tito realizes it’s past midnight, he laughs.

“What’s so funny?” Mat looks at him, cheeks pink and lips swollen and it’s the most beautiful he thinks Tito’s ever looked.

“I forgot to give you your present.”

“What the fuck,” Mat says, poking Tito in the side. “There’s _more_?”

Tito nods, reaches into his pocket and hands Mat a box that’s small enough that he can see why he’d forgotten about it. Mat opens it and it’s a bracelet, engraved with what he’s pretty sure are coordinates.

“What is this?” He asks, looking at Tito in complete awe. Because an air balloon and a romantic beach dinner wasn’t enough, Tito gives him something that, though he doesn’t quite understand yet, knows is going to straight for his heart.

Tito runs his finger over the metal when Mat puts it on. “This,” he says, pointing to one set, “is where I live.” He turns Mat’s arm gently, skipping over the middle to point to the opposite end. “That’s where you live.”

He gets that part pretty quickly. No matter the distance, they’re connected.

“What’s in the middle?” Mat runs his own finger over a set of coordinates which, as someone who can barely use a GPS, knows nothing about.

“The first place we kissed,” Tito says, cheeks getting pinker.

As expected, his heart does some crazy flip on the spot. It’s probably the sappiest thing Mat’s ever heard and yet, coming from Tito, the most perfect. He cups his face, pulls Tito in and kisses him again and again until they’re both breathless and content.

“What if I didn’t kiss you back?” Mat pulls back only to look at the bracelet again. He thinks about Paris, the choices he’s made— the choice he almost didn’t. “What if I never came to Barcelona?”

“You did, though,” Tito says.

Mat doesn’t know what prompted him to leave Paris. He won’t say he was happy there— he wasn’t and Tito was right— he _was_ brooding. He thinks it’s when the brooding became loneliness, when Tito, smiling in Ibiza made him feeling something that— for the first time in awhile— wasn’t sadness.

He thought about turning off his phone— staying in Paris for entire _month_ like some sort of hermit, because what else does someone do when they’re not able to sort through their emotions? Mat’s heart swells when he thinks of Tito— when he feels Tito’s warmth against his body and reminds himself that he almost didn’t leave Paris for _this_.

He’s glad he did.

..

They spend two more days in Barcelona, stealing kisses on the beach and giving Ryan shit when he and Luc do the same. As it turns out, Luc’s been helping Tito with Mat’s birthday plans since the start of the trip.

“He was going to find you and bring you here himself,” Luc admits and though Tito feigns a look of denial, he, along with everyone else, laughs.

“We had bets where you were,” Ryan says. “Tito won, though. He said Italy which is technically the closest.”

Tito smiles, proudly.

“What did everyone else say?” Mat laughs.

“I said Greece, Luc said you flew to Vancouver.” Ryan looks to Luc, sticking his tongue out. “Luc lost.”

“You all lost,” Tito says, rolling his eyes.

Mat smiles, leans against Tito’s side and though Italy isn’t Paris, it’s close and he’s proud. “What made you say Italy?”

“I don’t know.” Tito unashamedly takes Mat’s hand into his. “I just knew you weren’t too far away. Plus, you’re like, way into pasta.”

“Okay, I mean, you’re not wrong,” Mat grins. “But you were still, _technically_ , wrong.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tito says, pressing a kiss to Mat’s temple. “I still win.”

“I’m really happy for you two,” Luc begins, then shakes his head. “But you’re really gross.”

“I’m in love,” Tito says proudly and kisses Mat square on the mouth.

Barcelona, the trip that almost didn’t happen, ends up to be the best part of Mat’s summer. No tournament, trophy or recognition could ever compare to trading in France for Spain— to kissing Tito in a jacuzzi, or to making love their last night there, a sky full of stars above and the beach below.

They don’t plan on having sex, just fall into bed together, kissing until kissing isn’t enough anymore. It’s the first time Tito decides the be the braver of the two, telling Mat directly, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Mat says into Tito’s mouth, between removing their shirts and coming back together, kisses even stronger. He stops, briefly, to look at Tito— to make sure he knows it isn’t just because Tito’s hand his dangerously close to his dick. “I love you,” he repeats, sounding more sure the second time around.

“Good.” Tito presses a kiss to Mat’s neck that makes him sigh.

It’s slow, Tito taking his time as their bodies move together— Mat’s back arched and mouth half-opened as Tito makes him feel better than he’s ever imagined. It’s another night of taking their time, this time ending with Tito making the softest of sounds into the hollow of Mat’s neck when he’s close to being pushed over the edge.

“You’re so good,” Mat tells Tito, kissing his chin. When Tito pulls out, Mat kisses his face, strokes him through his orgasm and falls in love with the faces he makes— the sounds that follow— all that is Tito.

Tito, thankful and full of bliss, makes himself comfortable against Mat’s side, kisses him some more, and brings Mat to that equal state of bliss with a few quick strokes. It doesn’t take much to make Mat come, already worked up from watching Tito get there first.

Mat falls asleep, content with Tito curled against his back, one hand resting over his stomach. He doesn’t think he’s tired, was totally down with some more kissing, until he wakes up the next morning, neither having moved from their respective spots.

“Do we have to leave?” Mat asks when he feels Tito’s arm slip away.

“I mean, kind of,” Tito says, kissing Mat’s shoulder. “My flight’s booked and I have literally two charity events coming up. Plus this place books up so fast, I still don’t know how you got your own room.”

Mat turns, kisses Tito softly and then smiles wide. “Guess some things are meant to happen.”

What he doesn’t tell Tito is how much extra his room actually cost.

..

Saying goodbye to Barcelona isn’t hard— it was amazing, but it wasn’t because of the location for him. He and Tito ride to the airport together, quiet for most of the ride, because Mat’s out of things to say when he’s already had the life kissed out of him by his best friend and— he thinks— boyfriend.

“You should visit,” Mat says when they reach the gate to Montreal.

They say goodbye to the rest of the group first, and the guys, thankfully, give them a little space. When they’re alone again, Tito smiles and wonders how someone can be so happy about saying goodbye.

“What?” Mat frowns, because the thought of having to be apart again after _that_ — he isn’t sure he can do it. He looks at his bracelet and it helps, briefly— they’re connected. It’s just— they’re going separate ways so suddenly, after three of what Mat is sure are some of the most amazing days of his entire life— and he’s a first round draft pick. “I mean it.”

“I am,” Tito says, taking Mat’s hand and linking their fingers.

Mat gives Tito’s hand a squeeze. He believes him, it’s just— “When?”

Tito pulls out his passport, unfolds his ticket and Mat immediately recognizes the text— YVR— Vancouver. It’s Mat’s gate— Mat’s _flight._

“Wait, what?” Mat takes Tito’s ticket, looks it over to make sure he didn’t drop his own— this one isn’t his. This one has Tito’s name— _Beauvillier, Anthony_ — printed across the top. He nearly drops it when he realizes what this means.

“Surprise?”

“When the fuck did you—,” Mat begins, but doesn’t care. He pulls Tito in, kisses him, hard and if someone recognizes, it just doesn’t matter anymore. The world is his to conquer with Tito by his side.

“Couple days ago,” Tito admits with a breathy laugh once they’ve broke apart. “I figured if you said no, I’d just get another flight home. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, shit—” Mat can’t stop smiling because it’s not permanent of anything, but Tito— _his Tito_ — is coming home with him. How Tito pulled this off, he doesn’t know— he doesn’t care. He’s just _happy_. “Yeah, it’s more than okay.”

“Thought I could meet my boyfriend’s parents,” Tito says as they start walking towards the correct gate.

“You’ve met my parents.” Mat almost misses the _boyfriend_ part, then smiles, the word playing back on repeat in the back of his mind. “Boyfriend though? Bold of you to assume.”

“Am I not?” Tito grins, nudging Mat’s side.

“Are you asking me?” Mat nudges back.

“Yes,” Tito says when they stop in front of their gate. “Will you?”

Mat just smiles, leans in and when their lips meet, thinks of Tito— of his bracelet— how he never, ever has to go anywhere alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on twitter @ dejadejayou or titobeauvillier on tumblr!


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